


Cregga and Tsarmina smash the patriarchy and transphobes, or Big Trans Lesbians Team Up and Destroy Hell

by legalgood



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Afterlife, Cregga and Tsarmina team up to fight transphobes and the patriarchy, Gen, Hellgates (Redwall), Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9421979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legalgood/pseuds/legalgood
Summary: I love this au there hopefully will be more to come





	

            _Well, this certainly isn’t what I imagined the Dark Forest to be like_ , Cregga Rose Eyes thought, picking herself up from the dusty ground. She could sense something off about the place. Carefully, she opened her eyes, and the sight that greeted her quickly quelled any relief at the return of her vision. The gate before her was on fire, made of some flammable stone. From the bars, the visages of foxes, ferrets, and weasels leered. It was wide open. Cregga grunted, mumbled, “I’m too dead for this,” and stepped into Hellgates.

 

            As she meandered through a charred parody of Mossflower Woods, Cregga thought of why she might have been sent here. Surely, she had killed more than her fair share of vermin, but other Badger Lords must have also, and they hadn’t gone to Hellgates. Or had they? The old badger shook her head.

 

            It wasn’t like she went out of her way to kill vermin, she thought, before realizing that she did, in fact, go out of her way to kill vermin, but not vermin just lying about not doing harm to anybeasts, just vermin who had killed, who would kill again. She had given that up, mostly, when she became the Badger Mother of Redwall, when she had lost her eyes. But when Redwall was in trouble, there was no question: she would kill, she would lay down her life, for the abbeybeasts.

 

            During her life, Cregga had never thought very much about what right and wrong really meant. She was a Badger Lady, and that made her right. She had to defend the coast, defend the woods, defend the Abbey if need be. No matter what the cost. Vermin, they wanted to destroy life, destroy happiness, burn the world to the ground. So you had to destroy them first.

 

            The dusty soil underneath her paws grew more solid, and soon Cregga reached the bank of a dark River Moss. It was on fire, like someone had exchanged the water for oil, and tossed in a lit match. Cregga looked ahead, and was surprised not to see the spires of Redwall in the distance, until she remembered her circumstances. Holding a paw to her brow to shield her eyes from the bright glow of the flames, she peered in the direction Redwall should have been. There was a building there, red sandstone as well, but it wasn’t Redwall. It seemed sinister, despite the familiar stone. Still, a sinister sandstone building was better than the monotony of the ruined woods.

 

\----

 

            Cregga thought it curious that she had yet to meet any of the infamous inhabitants of Hellgates. She had presumed they would be in some way notified of her arrival, and that masses of former foes would be clamoring at the gate to ‘greet’ her. As she approached the sandstone building, which proved to be an enormous castle, several times larger than Redwall, she saw two wildcats in furious debate, with several blue rats, a stoat, a nervous-looking fox, a scowling ferret with a painted face, and an impassive, blue-eyed weasel in attendance. Grimly setting her jaw, Cregga gripped her axepike, which had appeared the moment she thought of it, and inched forward, keeping behind the trees for cover, until she was close enough to overhear the conversation.

 

            “Your father may have let you prance around and call yourself a princess, Tsaron,” one wildcat was saying. The other bared her teeth at the speaker. “But he’s not here now, certainly isn’t going to _defend_ the _son_ who killed him, and I won’t stand for it. And neither would your grandfather.”

 

            “You don’t give a rat’s behind about what Grandpa Mortspear would think,” the other retorted, lips curling into a snarl. One of the rats stepped back. The second wildcat rolled her eyes. “And I am _not_ my father’s son. I’d tell you to talk to Gingivere, but it seems he never made it here. What a pity, I had been eagerly awaiting the family reunion.” The wildcat’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

 

            The other wildcat fumed. The weasel placed a paw on his shoulder, saying, “Do not react, it gives him ammunition.” He cast his piercing gaze over the other wildcat, who snarled at him in response. “See? He is no better than one of those sniveling woodlanders, too wretched, or, in his case, too angry, to even form proper replies.”

 

            “For Vulpez’s sake, call me ‘he’ again and I’ll—”

 

            “You’ll what?” The other wildcat taunted. “Send us to hellgates early?” He and the others, barring the rats, who remained silent, and the fox, who chuckled nervously, laughed uproariously. The insulted wildcat fumed.

 

            “Aww, is the little boy mad? Is the little boy upset?” The ferret mocked. “Maybe playin’ princess’ll cheer you up!” he sniggered.

 

           Cregga had seen enough, and stepped out of the cover of the trees, swinging her axepike and shouting, “EULALIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” in the most thunderous voice she could muster. Startled, the vermin froze. The second wildcat was the first to recover, and she glared at Cregga.

 

            For now, the Badger Lady ignored her, focusing instead on the other wildcat and his associates.

 

            “Now,” boomed Cregga, “mind telling me why you were harassing this young lady?”

 

            “Young?” sputtered the ferret.

 

            “Lady?” the other wildcat said incredulously.

 

            “You heard me. Now, care to tell me why you felt the need to harass…” Cregga nudged the wildcat.

 

            “Tsarmina,” she replied, idly sheathing and unsheathing her claws.

 

            “Thank you. Why, exactly, were you harassing Tsarmina?” She tossed her axepike from paw to paw.

 

            “That’s my nephew, ‘s family business.”

 

            “Nephew?” Cregga asked, anger rising again.

 

            “His name’s really Tsaron,” the weasel explained.

 

            “Really?” Cregga’s voice had the dangerous undertone of someone very close to losing their temper. “Because she just told me her name was Tsarmina. I think someone would know their own name.”

 

            The wildcat and his cronies looked at each other, and then at the axepike in Cregga’s paws.

 

            “I am Ungatt Trunn, who conquered Salamandastron. I am not afraid of you.” The wildcat declared. Cregga’s eyes narrowed.

 

            “You should be,” she growled, and then leaped.

 

\----

 

            “I didn’t need your help,” Tsarmina said imperiously. Cregga laughed.

 

            “I could see that you had the matter in paw,” she observed dryly. Tsarmina scowled. “I don’t like seeing that sort of thing going on,” Cregga continued in a more serious tone. “I saw it far too often in my lifetime. I _lived_ it too often in my lifetime.”

 

            “Thank you,” Tsarmina said, without removing the scowl from her face. Cregga grunted in response. Tsarmina resumed sheathing and unsheathing her claws. After a few tense moments of silence she ventured, “They tend to pick on Shang Damsontongue, too. From what I’ve heard.”

           

            “Do they now?” Cregga grinned. She hefted her axepike, and turned to Tsarmina. “Shall we?”

 

            Tsarmina looked up, feigning boredom. “Sure. Why not.”

 

            Perhaps there was a reason Cregga was in Hellgates after all.


End file.
